


You'll Love Me at Once

by cukimonstaaa



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes's Plums, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Come as Lube, Comeplay, Domestic Fluff, False Memories, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Recovered Memories, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Switching (mentioned), Top Steve Rogers, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-25 01:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cukimonstaaa/pseuds/cukimonstaaa
Summary: Bucky remembers. Months after the battle in Washington, D.C., Steve catches up to Bucky and finds that not only does he remember him and their shared past, he also misses Steve and is ready to come home. Steve quickly learns that what Bucky remembers might not be 100% accurate. He also realizes that he’s 100% on board with making Bucky’s not-memories a reality.--OR-- What happens when Bucky, based on some sexy “memories” he recovers, assumes he and Steve were lovers.





	You'll Love Me at Once

**Author's Note:**

> Events start with CA:TWS and essentially replace anything that happens after Bucky walks away from Steve at the end of WS (instead of Civil War). The "angst" and "graphic depictions of violence" tags are mostly for the parts that occur during TWS.
> 
> The amount of smut in this fic might've gotten out of my control. Sorry? :)
> 
> Please let me know if there are any tags I should add.

“Bucky?” His target’s brow furrows with confusion, all the fight going out of him with that one word.

 

The Asset stops too. _Bucky?_  “Who the hell is Bucky?” he asks.

 

Trying to dismiss the confounding turn of events, he takes aim at the blond again and immediately gets kicked in the back by a flying man. He gets back to his feet and looks at his target again. The man is still just staring at him, looking lost.

 

_Why isn’t he fighting back?_ The Asset wonders, but quickly tries to dispel the distracting question from his mind and aims his gun again, only to have to dodge a grenade the redhead launches at him. He ducks behind a car, narrowly escaping the explosion. He hears sirens in the distance, so he just keeps running.

 

\--

 

The Asset remembers.

 

_A fall._

 

_Snow covering the frozen ground._

 

_Blood._

 

“Mission Report.”

 

_The blond calling him Bucky._

 

_Lying on an operating table, a bloody stump where his left arm used to be._

 

_A frigid chill that seeps into his very soul._  

 

“Mission report, now.”

 

He feels a strike to his face.

 

“The man on the bridge, who was he?” he asks, turning back to the old man sitting in front of him.

 

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment.”

 

_Another mission?_ He tries to recall.

 

_Blond hair falling over bright blue eyes. Plush pink lips murmur, “Thank you, Buck, but I can get by on my own.” The Asset steps closer, backing the blond up against the door, gently grabbing his chin to tilt his face up. “The thing is, you don’t have to,” he whispers, ghosting his lips over the smaller man’s lips. He firmly kisses the blond, who exhales a pretty whimper. The sound lights a fire through his body in a way that burns, yet feels like an invigorating lightness at the same time. “I’m with you to the end of the line, pal,” the Asset moans against the shorter man’s lips._

 

The blond was smaller then. “I knew him.”

 

_A tent that did little to keep out the elements. Sleeping on a cot shared with the larger version of the blond. He looks down at the Asset with a small frown, just barely touching the wounds on the Asset’s hairline with his fingertips. The taller man’s body radiates an addictive warmth._

 

“Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century. And I need you to do it one more time,” his handler is saying.

 

_The blond, small again, but sitting on something that leaves him looming over the Asset._  

 

“Society’s at a tipping point between order and chaos. And tomorrow morning, we’re gonna give it a push.”

 

_The blond’s lip is bleeding._

 

“But, if you don’t do your part, I can’t do mine.”

 

_One large hand cups the left side of the blond’s face, the other gently wipes the blood off the blond’s bottom lip with a wet cloth._

 

“And Hydra can’t give the world the freedom it deserves.”

 

_He rubs his left thumb (flesh, not metal, he notices) across the uninjured part of the blond’s lip. He looks up from those soft lips to meet bright, baby blue eyes, burning with an unexpected heat that has the Asset licking his lips. Maintaining eye contact, the blond tilts his face slightly, drawing the Asset’s thumb into his mouth. The way he sucks on it makes the Asset’s breath catch._

 

“But I knew him,” the Asset insists.

 

“Prep him,” his handler commands as he paces away. At those words, the Asset’s stomach clenches painfully.

 

“He’s been out of cryo freeze too long,” comes another voice.

 

“Then wipe him. And start over.”

 

The Asset tries to focus on his breathing. He feels cold already.

 

\--

 

His target stands before him.

 

“People are gonna die, Buck.” He sighs, shoulders dropping. “I can’t let that happen.”

 

The man’s breathing picks up.

 

“Please, don’t make me do this.”

 

\--

 

Too quickly, the target has him in a choke hold.

 

“Drop it!” The target grunts, twisting his right arm back, surely preparing to dislocate the Asset’s arm.

 

The Asset keeps trying to escape, both from his target and the disconcerting heat that radiates invitingly from the man’s body.

 

He finds that there's a small part of himself that doesn't want to continue this fight. Just wants to go limp and absorb his target's warmth.

 

But that's ridiculous, and the Asset has no idea where that feeling comes from.

 

\--

  
The Asset blinks slowly. There’s a burning building and a huge body of water far below him. He flinches violently, thinking he’s falling to his death. In doing so, he realizes three things. First, he’s not falling, he is just lying on a piece of glass in the helicarrier he was on earlier. Second, his flesh arm is injured pretty badly. He tries to pop it back into place even as he mentally takes inventory of his other injuries. And third, his target is still moving about, which means he hasn’t completed his mission yet. He quickly gets to his feet, spotting his target making his way back toward the bridge. His metal arm automatically reaches for a pocket knife. That won’t work. He grabs a gun and fires, hitting his target’s left thigh.

 

Despite being hit, his target keeps running, jumping up onto a wall. The Asset takes a steadying breath. Shoots again and misses. His target rearranges his grip and keeps climbing up towards the bridge. As the target finally climbs onto the bridge’s deck, running to the data center housed at the bridge’s center, the Asset staggers a few steps back, holding his wounded arm close to his body.

 

The Asset fires again, hitting his mark this time. Blood oozes from the wound, adding more crimson to his target’s colorful uniform. His target sinks to the floor, out of the Asset’s view.

 

A few seconds go by before the Asset hears his target utter something he can’t make out. He starts walking towards the bridge when he hears his target again.

 

“Fire now,” his target mutters. After a pause, he yells, “Do it! Do it now.”

 

Explosions begin to rock the helicarrier. Before he can locate a place to take cover, a large chunk of metal comes crashing down on the Asset, pinning his body from the waist down.

 

His target comes tumbling down, making his way towards him. He renews his efforts to push off the metal frame, not sparing a thought to keep the fear off his face.

 

He’s failed his mission.  

 

Another explosion knocks his target off balance. The man crawls over and grabs the steel beam, roaring as he tries to lift it off the Asset. He’s able to lift it a few inches, just enough for the Asset to move out from underneath. The target drops the metal frame as soon as the Asset is clear from it.

 

As they stagger to their feet, his target speaks to him. “You know me.”

 

His target’s words make him feel lost. The Asset lunges at his target, punching the man with his metal fist, screaming, “No, I don’t!”

 

His target straightens up, walking back towards the Asset.

 

“Bucky,” his target begins, the Asset can tell he’s going to say more, but that word has his brain vibrating with variations of the word.

 

_Bucky, muttered weakly, by the sweating blond, tucked into a hospital bed, life slipping out of him._

 

_Bucky, the word distorted by arousal, the blond arching his back off the bed with pleasure._

 

_Bucky, gasped in between bursts of laughter, two flesh hands tickling the small blond._

 

_Bucky, voiced as a question by the man on the bridge, draining all the fight out of him._

 

_Buck._

 

_“People are gonna die, Buck.”_

 

“You’ve known me your whole life,” his target goes on to say, oblivious to the thoughts rattling around inside the Asset’s brain. The blond’s voice brings a sense of peace to the Asset’s mind, which is a completely foreign sensation and even more frightening than the fear he’d felt earlier at the thought of failing his mission.

 

The Asset strikes the man with the back of his left fist, sending the man flying backwards.

 

His target merely gets back to his feet, “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.”

 

“Shut up!” the Asset yells, attacking the man again. This time, when his target stubbornly gets to his feet again, he removes his cowl, revealing messy blond hair.  

 

“I’m not gonna fight you,” the blond says, dropping his shield through a hole in the cracking glass floor. The breathless blond raises his chin, everything about the motion is familiar.

 

_Even the blood,_  the Asset thinks.

 

“You’re my friend,” he states, watching the Asset’s face.

 

The pair stare at each other for a moment. The rush of thoughts in the Asset’s brain are too many and too strong to make sense of. After a moment of trying to make sense of the mess, the Asset launches himself at his target.

 

“You’re my mission,” the Asset growls, tackling the taller man to the floor. The Asset punches the blond’s face repeatedly with his metal fist. He yells, “You’re. My. Mission!” in between hits. The target doesn’t fight back. It frightens the Asset, making him feel as though he’s been submerged in ice water. It’s not right. His fear makes him inexplicably more desperate as he continues striking his target.

 

_You’re my mission_.

 

Gasping for breath, the Asset pulls back his left hand, ready for another strike, when the blond utters, “Then finish it.” His voice sounding strange, choking on the blood filling his mouth. He’s staring at the Asset through his left eye, the right swollen shut.

 

Everything about those words feels wrong. The blond . . . doesn’t say things like that. He’s not supposed to. Quitting is not compatible with what the blond is, even if the Asset is not sure who the blond is. He knows that to be true.

 

“‘Cause I’m with you to the end of the line.” The blond’s words throw the whole world off balance. Suddenly, the Asset’s grip on the blond’s chest isn’t to keep the man there, but to keep the Asset from falling over.

 

The Asset’s vision blurs with tears as horror turns the blood in his veins into ice. He did this. The blond’s face is bloodied and swollen because of him. The Asset’s panic is renewed. He needs to protect this man. He _knows_ this as well. It is the most visceral thing he’s ever known. _This man_ is the most important thing in the world.

 

As the Asset tries to steady his breathing and think of what he can do now, a pillar from above comes down, knocking out the floor from beneath them. Instinctively, the Asset reaches for a metal beam to keep himself from falling, and suddenly he’s watching the blond fall to the river below. It’s horribly familiar.

 

_“Bucky!! Nooo!” Bucky reaches for the blond’s hand, eternally out of reach._

 

It was Bucky who fell. The blond tried to stop it. The Asset blinks now, tears sliding down his cheeks, and sees the blond breaking the surface of the water.

 

Bucky lets go of the helicarrier.

 

He cuts through the surface, the frigid water immediately pushing air from his lungs. He locates the blond and swims over to him. He pulls him to the surface, swimming towards the shore. Once there, he waits until he sees Steve cough up the water from his lungs.

 

_His name is Steve_.

 

Bucky looks around, certain that Steve will be okay now that he’s breathing. He holds his injured arm closer to himself and walks away from Steve. Not sure where he’s going, or even why he’s leaving.

 

He knows he belongs by Steve’s side, always has, but he’s not what he used to be. Steve deserves better than whatever he is now.

 

Bucky reaches the edge of the woods.

 

Besides, there’s still a lot of Hydra to take down. His left hand clenches into a fist.

 

He has a lot of work to do.

 

\--

 

Bucky wakes to the sensation of fingertips trailing down his abs to his hips. Strong hands grip his thick erection. As Steve starts stroking him, Bucky opens his eyes. The morning’s light is filling his room, making Steve’s hair glow bright gold. His baby blue eyes are dark with arousal despite the sunlight’s rays.

 

Holding Bucky’s gaze, Steve wraps his lips around Bucky’s stiff cock. Bucky immediately closes his eyes as his breath stutters. He clenches the bed’s sheets and tries to keep from thrusting into Steve’s mouth as the blond picks up the pace, sliding him in and out of his mouth.

 

Steve is gripping Bucky’s thigh with his left hand, but Bucky’s eyes flash open when Steve’s slick fingers press between his butt cheeks.

 

“Oh fuck!” Bucky shouts, not giving a fuck if they’ve woken up their neighbors. He shamelessly spreads his legs further apart, grateful when Steve swiftly slips a finger into him. Bucky lets his eyes flutter closed as Steve makes quick work of opening him up, now deep throating him as he scissors his fingers inside Bucky’s smooth walls, relaxing and stretching them. Soon, Bucky is pushing himself down onto Steve’s fingers, desperate for more.

 

Bucky whimpers as Steve pulls his fingers out, letting Bucky slip from between his lips with an obscenely wet sound. Buck pants helplessly as Steve opens a bottle of lube and spreads slick onto his own impressively swollen cock. The bottle clicking closed and the wet sounds of lube being spread over Steve’s cock have Bucky mindlessly undulating with desire, completely at Steve’s mercy.

 

Finally, Bucky feels that hard, perfect pressure against his asshole. He slits his eyes open to hold Steve’s heated stare as the blond pushes into him. His eyes roll back into his head as Steve bottoms out, sinking down to cover Bucky’s body with his own. Bucky automatically wraps his arms around Steve, hands appreciating the acres of muscle they encounter.

 

Steve curses as the embrace brings Bucky’s hot walls impossibly closer, whispering in Bucky’s ear, “Fuck, baby you’re always so tight.”

 

Bucky lets out another tiny whimper.

 

“God, I love you.” Steve mutters as he starts thrusting into Bucky, those words always sounding like a vow. He angles his hips expertly, setting a pace that hits Buck’s prostate with every roll of his hips.

 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Bucky groans when he’s beyond even short sentences. He’s so close. He thinks Steve knows because he picks up his pace, telling Bucky he’s so beautiful.

 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby,” Steve whispers fervently. It sends Bucky over the edge. He moans louder than ever as his orgasm hits him. Hot come spills from his cock, painting his abs with white stripes.

 

“Bucky! Bucky! Buck! Buck!” Steve yells, coming with him--Bucky’s clenching asshole no doubt triggered Steve’s orgasm as well.

 

His neighbors hit the wall behind his bed with alarming force and volume, waking Bucky for real. He’s out of breath, his heart is racing, and there _is_ warm come on his belly, but Steve isn’t here. Was never here. He pushes his damp hair away from his forehead and rolls his eyes in frustration as his breathing returns to normal.

 

_Fuck, that was perfect_ , he laments, though he can’t help smirking: Steve was always perfect, always blew his mind in bed.

 

He gets up before the mess on his stomach can dry unpleasantly and gets into the shower.

 

\--

 

Bucky happily swings his bag of plums as he jogs up the eighteen flights to his apartment. As he reaches his door, he pulls his keys from his pocket. Inserting the key into the slot, he turns it. It doesn’t click: it’s already unlocked.

 

His stomach sinks. He takes a few breaths, preparing for a fight, and thinks, _if it were Hydra, they probably would have torn down the door, or broken in without leaving a trace for a surprise attack. But. . . it could be_ -and his stomach rebounds quickly, with excitement and hope this time. What if it’s Steve?

 

He throws the door open and sure enough, Steve is standing in his kitchen wearing his Captain America uniform, cowl hiding his blond hair. He turns to face Bucky.

 

Bucky doesn’t say anything as he walks into his apartment, closing the door behind him.

 

“Do you remember me, Buck?” he asks when Bucky remains silent.

 

Bucky can hardly believe Steve’s here. He had figured Steve had been tracking him, but hadn’t thought Steve would actually find him. He glances at the notebook in Steve’s hand and wonders what else he might have touched. Not that he’s upset. Steve is always welcome to anything of Bucky’s, but he is curious.

 

He looks down at his bed. Just a mattress on the floor for now. His sheets and pillows have been moved. He might not have made his bed today, distracted as he was by the dream he’d had this morning, but he knows he didn’t leave the pillows like that. He smiles and answers Steve’s question.

 

“You’re Steve.”

 

_Did Steve roll around in the sheets?_ It warms his heart to think that maybe Steve has missed him as much as he has missed Steve. Misses his scent even. Bucky’s heart races with hope and glee: perhaps Steve wants him back. All of him.

 

Steve smiles back at him, shoulders relaxing visibly. He removes his cowl and sets Bucky’s notebook on the counter. Bucky is secretly grateful Steve looked at that particular notebook and not the one stashed in his backpack under the floorboard. He was never as good an artist as Steve, but the things he drew usually resembled what they were supposed to. He’d tried sketching Steve from memory and ended up with a few that he liked enough to not throw away. Some of him before the serum, just a few from the war, but most of them of Steve in various states of ecstasy.

 

\--

 

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve whispers with a tentative smile, heart suddenly light with hope. And he’s right to hope, Bucky’s responding smile is almost as bright as _before_. Steve takes a step forward before he can stop himself. He doesn’t take another step forward, worried about startling Bucky, but then Bucky’s smile turns almost shy before returning to its earlier brightness. This time, Bucky steps forward and Steve moves too, meeting Buck halfway, in the middle of the apartment.

 

Bucky doesn’t hesitate when he reaches Steve and immediately steps into the fortress of his embrace, tucking his face into Steve’s neck and breathes deeply. Steve sucks in a silent gasp, surprised by the blissful contact. Feeling Bucky’s lips against his skin, he has trouble suppressing a full-body shudder. He clutches Bucky tightly, breathing in his scent gratefully--sniffing his pillows like a creep had _not_ been enough--only remembering a second later that he could actually break Bucky’s ribs. He tries to loosen his grip, but when he does, Bucky clutches him tighter and presses his body flush against him. Steve’s heart beats faster then and his breathing quickens. Bucky is so warm and has a pleasant-smelling shampoo, or detergent, Steve isn’t sure, maybe both. It's not a cologne. There was no evidence of anything except the basics in Bucky’s small bathroom.

 

His knees go weak. Steve was planning on being very cautious with Bucky, thinking he would want space and might be jumpy. He didn’t expect this: that Bucky might be starving for physical contact. Steve finds that he’s rubbing Bucky’s back soothingly.

 

Bucky takes a deep breath, face still pressed to Steve’s throat, before he tilts his face up, his nose tickling Steve’s skin as he does.

 

_No, it doesn’t tickle_ , Steve admits to himself, as he feels blood start to divert south. He’s about to take a step backward to put space between his hips and Bucky’s when Buck presses his forehead to Steve’s jaw.

 

“I missed you,” Bucky whispers, breath faintly puffing against Steve’s neck. Steve's eyes flutter closed at the delicate sensation.

 

Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to Bucky’s forehead, whispering, “I missed you too, Buck.” Then he just stands there, barely able to believe that this is real, not aware that he is still pressing his lips to Bucky’s forehead. Instead, he's focusing on the feel of Bucky’s hands tracing patterns on his back. Bucky’s embrace is everything he’s been dreaming of for weeks now, years really. But more so just recently. Searching for Bucky had been taking a toll on him, both physically and emotionally. His entire being was searching for him, whether awake or dreaming.

 

“Will you come home with me, Bucky?” Steve asks quietly, as if speaking louder than a whisper will shatter the illusion of being home already, in Bucky’s arms.

 

\--

 

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Bucky replies, voice almost raspy. Bucky closes his eyes, smiling because his time in hell is finally up. He’s home again.

 

\--

 

Steve spoke with his team over their comms while he watched Bucky gather what he wanted to take with him. Everything fit inside one backpack that had been hidden under some floorboards in the kitchen. Steve couldn’t help but notice that Bucky hardly added anything to it, as though Bucky had it ready in case he had to leave in a hurry.

 

His heart clenched painfully at the thought that Bucky had been living like that, without any sense of permanence or safety. Steve had sucked in a breath, hoping this would be the end of that uncertainty, and that Bucky would want to stay with him at the tower. Or wherever he might want to live, really. He doesn’t care where they live. Now that he has Bucky back, _his Bucky_ , he doesn’t plan on letting go of him.

 

\--

 

Bucky carefully places his bag of plums on top of everything else and zips the backpack shut. As he slips it onto his back, he walks towards Steve, not stopping where Steve expects him to.

 

Instead, he stops just a few inches away from Steve’s face, looking up at him with a smile, “Ready.”

 

Steve smiles in return, unable to resist touching Bucky’s arm before leading the way back to the jet.

 

Bucky is introduced to the team, polite expression turning flustered when he shakes Natasha’s hand. The others don’t notice the change, but Steve and Natasha do. Bucky opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but when nothing comes out, she gives him the tiniest smile and walks away.

 

Steve pats Bucky’s back sympathetically. He knows Bucky, always the gentleman, especially around women. There isn’t any advice Steve can offer him: he doesn’t know the etiquette for apologizing to someone for shooting them either.

 

The others tactfully give Steve and Bucky their space as they all get settled in. Bucky looks around, occasionally stealing stealthy glances at Steve’s butt--just as perfect as he remembered--as he follows Steve.

 

Steve’s reactions to having Bucky close by are wearing him out in a way no fight ever has. His breathing is erratic, made more difficult when Bucky casually touches him. His stomach swoops every time he looks at him. And when Bucky smiles at him, he feels like the jet is suddenly in free-fall, making him almost lightheaded.

 

He only knows the jet is not in free-fall because he felt it when they were inside the apartment too, and because no one else seems to notice the fluctuations in gravity. It’s been years since his body has caused him so much grief.

 

After thinking about this for a minute, he realizes he loves it. It’s fitting. One look at Bucky, and he’s that sixteen-year-old boy again, tripping over himself trying to conceal how obviously in love with his best friend he is. It’s like no time has passed.

 

He’s right back where’s always been: overwhelmed by his love for Bucky and embarrassingly affected by Bucky’s proximity. Hell, even just his gaze feels like too much . . . _yet not enough_ , he muses sadly.

 

\--

 

Now though, Bucky seems to be dozing on Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s not sure what to make of it. In an unexpected twist, it’s soothing his erratic heartbeat, when the proximity was affecting him so strongly before. Maybe it’s because Bucky’s unconscious now.  

 

Earlier, as they made their way to the back of the jet, Bucky had appeared to be waiting to see which seat of the four Steve would sit in. Aware of this, Steve had erred on the side of caution. Not wanting to crowd Bucky, he had chosen to sit in the one furthest to the left on the small bench.

 

As soon as he made his choice and approached the seat, Bucky set his backpack on the seat furthest to the right, but sat right next to Steve, leaving one seat open between them and his bag. Without any hesitation, he had moved close enough to Steve that their legs were touching, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

When the jet started moving, Bucky leaned into Steve, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. He moved Steve’s arm up in the process. After hesitating for a moment, Steve had wrapped his arm around Bucky, who he felt sigh and relax in his embrace, placing one hand on Steve’s thigh as he angled his body towards Steve more comfortably.

 

They had received knowing looks from most of the team, but Steve pointedly ignored them. _It’s not like that._

 

_It never was,_ Steve sighs internally.

 

Instead, he continues to absently stroke Bucky’s hair, pretending that he’s not over-analyzing what Bucky’s hand on his thigh might mean, trying not to think of how much he’s enjoying the contact.

 

_It doesn’t mean anything_ , his mind berates him. Bucky had snuggled up to him so casually, he probably just wanted to pick up where they left off. _Before_. Best friends who casually hugged each other and didn’t let things get awkward when they had to share a bed for warmth.

 

Growing up, Bucky had never hesitated to pull Steve into a hug or throw his arm across Steve’s shoulders while they were walking. Steve had always fit perfectly under Bucky’s arm. After the serum, when their height difference reversed, Bucky had adapted to the change easily enough. Weirdly, more easily than Steve had.

 

During the war, when they were lucky enough to share a tent, they would sleep in the same cot. It made sense for them to share body heat. Just as they had when they shared an apartment in Brooklyn, where the winters were long and brutal. They had done so as friends, excruciatingly platonic in their actions. Always politely ignoring inevitable erections.

 

This appears to be no different. While he feels comforted by this thought, he can’t help but notice that Natasha’s expression has remained studiously neutral since they began flying, making Steve think something really might be going on.

 

Steve sighs quietly. _Well, whatever this is, we’ll get through it just as we always have_ . _Together._  He gently brushes Bucky’s hair away from his face and rests his head on top of Bucky’s. Sitting here, with Bucky in his arms, he can’t bring himself to keep worrying about what this might mean. Everything feels perfect just as it is.

 

\--

 

Bucky agrees to stay in Steve’s apartment, which Steve is simultaneously glad and anxious for. On the one hand, he’ll have Bucky in his home, but on the other, he’ll have to be alert 24/7, second-guessing his every move, hoping he’s not as transparent as he feels. He resigns himself to many cold showers in his future.

 

But that’s his own problem and nothing for Bucky to worry about, especially when he hasn’t even been properly examined.

 

Bucky’s demeanor had been calm enough that no one suggested he get looked at immediately. They can go down to medical tomorrow morning.

 

_Or later today actually_ , Steve thinks tiredly, glancing at the clock in his kitchen. Dawn is fast approaching, so he gives Bucky a quick tour of his apartment.

 

When Bucky retreats to the guest room to get settled in, Steve takes a quick shower and puts on sweats and a t-shirt before going to the kitchen to make some coffee. Once the coffeemaker starts gurgling, he grabs a coffee cake from the counter. He contemplates taking a pie out of the fridge as well.

 

One of his favorite things about the serum, besides being free from asthma attacks and bouts of pneumonia, is that he can eat as many pastries as his heart has always desired without worrying about gaining weight. Or cholesterol. Or diabetes. Or whatever ninety-five-year-olds should be worried about.

 

He’s taking mental inventory of the pies he has in the fridge and freezer (key lime, lemon meringue, chocolate mousse, cherry, also raspberry chocolate cake . . .), when Bucky walks back into the kitchen, making Steve jump--he had not expected Bucky to come back out of his room tonight.

 

He’s smiling with amusement at having surprised Steve and is wearing Steve’s clothes: a dark hoodie partially zipped up over a white muscle shirt, and plaid green pajama pants, hanging low on his hips. His shoulder-length hair is still slightly damp from his shower and looks wavier than it had earlier.

 

Steve sighs internally. Yup, this is going to be tough. Bucky looks good enough to eat, pies be damned.

 

“Sorry,” Bucky offers, leaning against the opposite side of the kitchen island. “Didn’t think I’d startle you, I’ll make more noise next time.” He opens the bag of plums Steve didn’t notice him holding at first.

 

As Steve watches, Bucky takes the plums out of the bag and adds them to the fruit bowl sitting on the island counter. He uses his left hand, exuding a tenderness Steve had not previously associated with that arm. The sight makes Steve’s throat tight. It’s so domestic. It’s perfect. He shouldn’t take it as such, but it feels like a commitment from Bucky. A commitment to stay. A promise not to run.

 

Steve clears his throat and smiles at him, “It’s okay.” He looks down at the cake in front of him. “I think subconsciously, I still feel guilty about eating entire cakes and pies all by myself.” He absently touches his stomach, as if expecting to feel anything softer than his firm abs. Bucky’s gaze follows his hand and stays there, even after Steve moves his hand away.

 

Bucky blinks and looks back up as Steve moves forward to lean against the counter.

 

“Would you like anything to eat? I have more than just pastries, I promise. We can also order something from the kitchens. Tony has cooks working 24/7.”

 

Bucky walks around the kitchen island, glancing at the fridge door. He stops a few inches away from Steve, casually leaning on the counter as well. He tilts his head toward the coffee cake. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind sharing your cake with me,” he says with a smile.

 

Steve has trouble drawing in a breath at Bucky’s casual proximity. “Uh yeah, of course,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound as flustered as he suddenly feels. He turns back to the cabinets, wincing internally, and pulls out mugs and plates. “Coffee’s almost done.”

 

“Can you grab the placemats from that drawer there?” He asks Bucky as he walks around to pull two chairs out at the breakfast bar of his kitchen island.

 

Steve sets down the cutlery as a smiling Bucky appears at his side, laying out the mats. Steve puts down the plates and smiles back easily.

 

He could get used to this.

 

\--

 

Once the coffee maker beeps, Steve pours out coffee for him and Bucky. He adds two teaspoons of sugar to his own cup, but gives Bucky his coffee black. Without realizing it, Steve holds his breath. Bucky always took his coffee black before, but now?

 

Bucky smiles and accepts the cup. He lifts it to his face, breathing deeply. “Smells great, Stevie.”

 

Steve joins Bucky at the breakfast bar. They sit with their bodies angled towards each other and start eating.

 

When it becomes clear the cake isn’t going to be enough for both of them, Steve pulls out the lemon meringue and raspberry chocolate cake. Bucky just looks at both desserts like a cat watching its prey, then fixes his gaze on Steve. There’s almost something challenging about it.

 

Steve raises an eyebrow, holding his gaze for another heartbeat.

 

In perfect unison, they each dive for a dish, Bucky going for the lemon meringue and Steve for the raspberry chocolate.

 

They don’t bother with plates this time. They just dig in, occasionally chatting in between bites. When Bucky mentions he hasn’t had desserts like this in a long time, Steve smiles, happy that he was able indulge him with this feast. He listens in fascination as Bucky shares some of his favorite places that he’s visited since he’s been on the run.

 

They had traveled through Europe during the war, and at the time, Steve was glad they were able to see new places, wishing it could have happened under better circumstances.

 

After coming out of the ice, he never felt a desire to travel again.

 

But now, listening to Bucky talk about a fabled ghost in Prague, he feels that desire again. He loves the way Buck’s face lights up, telling the old tale of the Golem (Bucky had always loved ghost stories). The brightness of his eyes makes most of Steve’s body go on autopilot, when he’d been so thoroughly enjoying the perfect balance of sweet raspberry and slightly bitter chocolate. Now he’s basking in the glow of Bucky’s energy.

 

He blinks when Bucky leans closer, reaching with his fork to taste some of Steve’s cake. Steve takes that as an invitation and grabs a forkful of lemon meringue as well. It’s excellent. He’ll have to go pastry shopping soon and he’ll be sure to take Bucky. He wants to spoil Bucky in any way he can now that he has him near.

 

“Wow,” Steve breathes as he pushes away the empty tray. “We probably should’ve ordered real food. I forget how much more we can eat now.” Truthfully, he hadn't really thought about anything except Bucky’s presence.

 

He gets to his feet, grabbing the dirty plates, and carries them to the sink to rinse them off.

 

Bucky laughs. “Right. ‘Now.’ I don’t know where you put it all, but you used to eat like that even before the serum.” He puts the placemats away and follows Steve to rest against the counter beside him.

 

Steve frowns at him, pausing in the middle of loading the dishwasher, “Wha--”

 

“Well, when we had enough to stuff our faces like that,” Buck amends.

 

Steve looks at him questioningly and mildly offended.

 

Bucky can’t suppress a snort. “Mr. Coney Island Hot Dog Eating Champion?”

 

Steve feels his cheeks grow warm. “I got second place!”

 

Buck chuckles. “Steve, the guy that got first place only ate one more than you did and he had like 150 pounds on you. That’s at least a tie in my book.”

 

Steve finally laughs, marveling at Bucky’s determination and--

 

“So, you remember?” Steve looks at Bucky hopefully.

 

“Yeah, Stevie. I remember everything.” Bucky looks down. “I think,” he adds as an afterthought, smiling at Steve again.

 

“I’m so relieved Bucky!” Steve exclaims, voice suspiciously wobbly as he throws his arms around Bucky, who immediately hugs him back, squeezing almost painfully. Steve almost gasps when Bucky presses his face into his neck again, whispering “ _Me too_ ,” but he’s too happy to worry about it this time.

 

He feels somewhat selfish as he breathes in deeply, dragging Bucky’s scent into his lungs. The combination of Bucky, such a familiar scent, and his own shower products makes him hold on for probably too long as he gets lost in it. He smells like the only home he's ever truly known.

 

Bucky hasn’t let go either, he notes. Eventually though, he lets go of him and steps back, smiling at him. Bucky warmly smiles back.

 

But then, an expression Steve can’t immediately identify crosses Bucky’s face.

 

“Steve, are you seeing anyone?” Bucky asks in a quiet voice.

 

_What?_ Steve blinks, feeling the blood drain from his face. He’s been back for less than 2 hours. _Oh fuck_. Did he do something to make Bucky feel awkward already and now Bucky’s actually hoping Steve’s in a relationship?

 

He fails to think of a reason as to why the conversation took this turn.

 

“No,” Steve all but whispers, waiting for Bucky’s reaction.

 

Bucky just smiles. Not in a “best friend about to comfort a friend” way, but with genuine joy.

 

Bucky takes another step forward, getting into Steve’s space again, and grabs his hands. Steve automatically grips his hands in return. The explosion of butterflies in his stomach and electricity in his chest block out any real thoughts about what might be happening. He just loves the way Bucky’s hands feel in his grasp, one cool and unyielding, the other firm and warm.

 

Bucky looks up into Steve’s eyes. “Do you still feel the same way about me?”

 

“What?” Steve croaks, feeling like he’s been submerged in ice water, even as his cheeks burn with embarrassment. _Bucky knows_. Was he really that obvious?! _Oh God_. He doesn’t even think to let go of Bucky’s hands and step away from him. All he can do is blink, try to breathe and think of how to respond.

 

“Us,” Bucky says, his gaze growing impossibly kind and. . . vulnerable. He stares at Steve for a moment before taking a deep breath.

 

“Do you still want to be with me?” he asks.

 

“Yes,” Steve responds automatically. A small furrow appears between his eyebrows, because _of course_. Of course he’ll always want Bucky.

 

Bucky’s face lights up and Steve grins back, his mind working too slowly to process what's happening. Seeing Bucky’s expression brighten up like that is amazing. He wasn’t sure how soon he might be able to see a real smile like that. And before he can piece it together, or freak out about his admission, Bucky stands on tiptoes to press his lips against Steve’s.

 

Instantly, Steve feels like he’s just gone down the first drop on the Cyclone, with a soft pressure on his lips and Bucky’s hands gripping his the only things anchoring him to this world. His lips are so soft, yet firm and just . . . perfect. Infinitely better than all his wet dreams and fantasies.

 

The incredible heat from Bucky’s lips helps ground him as the spinning stops a bit and his thoughts start to catch up with him.

 

_This is really happening_. And Bucky started it. _Wanted this._

 

He moans against Bucky’s lips with this realization.

 

Decades of hiding the truth, of lying about how he really felt about his best friend--he swears he used to be better at it. And in the end, it was as simple as that?

 

He wraps a hand behind Bucky’s neck, slips the other around his waist, clutching him close. Bucky lets out a tiny whimper, and to Steve, it sounds like he’s been waiting for this for as long as he has. He has no idea how he could possibly know something like that. But Bucky sounded so fragile and open.

 

Steve loves how Bucky grips his hair with his flesh hand and slides his left arm around his waist, hand slipping under Steve’s shirt, skimming over his hip. The cool contrast between his metal arm and their shared heat makes Steve shiver.

 

Steve feels like he blacks out for a few minutes, not because he forgets what is happening, but because there are no thoughts, only the physical, and whatever’s making him feel like he’s swimming, with no sense of time.

 

All he’s aware of is the warmth of Bucky’s skin on his, Bucky’s moans vibrating against his lips, his grip in Bucky’s silky hair, how Bucky tugs his hair, and above of all, the burning desire for Bucky that’s existed within him nearly his entire life. Instead of being quenched by Bucky’s touch, his soul-deep hunger for Bucky grows deeper, becomes more urgent.

 

Resisting the urge to simply pick Bucky up, set him on the kitchen island, and pin him there, he breaks their kiss. Steve tilts his face away from Bucky, trying to catch his breath. Bucky simply keeps kissing him, moving from the edge of Steve’s lips down to his neck, licking his collarbone. With just the right amount of pressure, Bucky scrapes his teeth against Steve’s neck, pulling a shockingly loud moan from his lips.

 

Steve freezes, so Bucky can tell he didn’t mean to be so loud. He leans back to look at Steve’s face. His eyes are wide as he starts to babble, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t uh--expecting that to . . . feel so good?”

 

“That is so hot,” Bucky exhales, attacking Steve’s neck again and makes him squirm, biting and sucking at the same spot at first, but eventually making his way to the other side.

 

_Yes!_ Bucky discovers he’s just as sensitive on that side as well. Steve moans uncontrollably, nearly crushing Bucky as he holds him tight, wanting only to get closer, raking his fingers down Bucky’s back. It’s music to Bucky’s ears, every gasp and moan going straight to his groin. He slows down to press small, barely-there kisses all over Steve’s neck. He takes his time, waiting for Steve’s gasps to relax into panting. Then he goes back to it, teasing Steve’s neck with enthusiasm.

 

“Buck!” Steve cries out helplessly, hands all over Bucky as he tries to rut against him.

 

Bucky pulls back and when Steve manages to open his eyes again, he looks into dilated, icy, blue-gray eyes that reflect a longing that rivals his own.

 

The smoldering desire that burns in Steve’s baby blue eyes makes Bucky’s erection painfully urgent.

 

“Fuck, this is better than anything I remember us doing before,” Bucky growls, pushing him against the fridge, slipping one thigh between Steve’s, pinning his arms on either side of his head. As Bucky goes back to wrecking his neck, he grinds his hips against Steve’s. His knees go weak when he realizes Steve is equally hard. Bucky rocks harder against him, appreciating how Steve groans with every roll of his hips.

 

“Ohh fuck,” Steve gasps, blunt nails dragging down Bucky’s back. Bucky’s so hard, and so big, _so fucking big, he must've been affected by the serum as well_. It’s so easy to feel the outline of Bucky’s dick through their sweatpants.

 

Weakly, Bucky’s words echo in Steve’s mind. _Remember us doing? . . . . Before?_ That doesn’t make any sense. When would they have done anything like this?

 

“Buck,” he says quietly. It sounds no different than an aroused whine. He clears his throat and tries again. “Buck, wait.”

 

Bucky stops immediately. He steps back to look at Steve.

 

“Yeah?” Bucky’s breathless.  “Is something wrong?” He asks apprehensively.

  
“No, I just. . . Buck, what do you mean this is better than anything you remember us doing before?”

 

“Yeah, like you fucking my brains out the second we got a moment alone after you rescued us from the Hydra base. In your tent.” Bucky says simply, as if reminding Steve to pack an umbrella. “I gave you the most wicked bruise trying to stay quiet, so no one would hear us. Good thing it was me getting fucked and not you, Lord knows how loud you can get. Or was I louder?” Bucky finally stops, trying to remember.

“What!” Steve chokes. “Bucky, we never did that--well probably in my dreams every night. . . and daydreams. . .” Steve trails off, getting distracted. So many of his fantasies suddenly appear tangible. “But, not in real life,” he ends lamely.

 

Bucky looks even more confused than Steve feels. His brow furrows and his eyes become unfocused.

 

“Dreams?” Bucky repeats, blinking rapidly. “But I remember sucking you off!”

 

Steve’s shocked expression is almost comical, but Bucky’s too dazed to appreciate it.

 

“You mean, they’re not memories?” He looks in Steve's direction, but zones out, looking through him.

 

“No?” Steve takes a deep breath and lets it out. He rubs Bucky’s arms soothingly. “What do you remember?”

 

Bucky takes a deep breath, exhaling almost frustratedly. “I remember being with you. Like that. Before the war. During the war.”

 

He looks at Steve, searching for affirmation in his expression. He finds none, only growing concern. Bucky closes his eyes, trying to think of memories in which he and Steve were not touching each other romantically.

 

None immediately come to mind. They were always touching. Even in the clearest memories. There was always longing. . .

 

A growing pain in his heart brings him back to the moment.

 

Bucky reassesses Steve’s expression: there is no disgust. There is only concern. And love. It’s unmistakable. He glances at the dark purple bite marks and bruises on Steve’s neck. Steve has not pushed him away. He’s still holding him tightly.

 

Bucky smiles to himself with satisfaction. Steve’s erection has not softened through the confusing moment, his eyes are still dilated.

 

His memories--or dreams, rather--may not be real. But . . . it appears they could be. Steve is evidently willing.

 

Some of his trademark confidence returns to him. And once again, Steve is his prey--or for the first time, rather. Shit. That will take some getting used to.

 

Whatever. They can sort it out later.

 

Steve is his. He _did_ say he wanted Bucky still. _Still._

 

Bucky leans forward again, carefully pressing his lips against Steve’s. He kisses him gently, unhurriedly, just because he can. He takes his time, trying to memorize every curve of Steve’s lips. He nips at Steve’s bottom lip, reveling in the fullness between his teeth.

 

Steve’s breathing picks up again as he lets Bucky kiss him. He seems calm, but Bucky knows him well, feels how amped up he is even though he doesn’t try to rush things.

 

So, Bucky kisses him more deeply, lets himself get lost in the moment again. He tugs at Steve’s hair. Steve’s hips buck forward as though he can’t help himself. Bucky grinds against him, moaning as Steve’s length rubs perfectly against his.

 

_Fuck_ , he feels so good. They set a slow pace, moving together, exploring.

 

After a few minutes their rocking becomes more urgent.

 

With great effort, Steve grunts, “Bucky, if you want to stop, or slow down at any time . . .”

 

“Not a chance,” Bucky pants against his lips.

 

“Good,” Steve gasps, hooking one leg around Bucky to grind against him better.

 

But Bucky grabs his thigh and holds him still, asking, “What about you? Do you wanna slow down at all?”

 

“No, baby,” Steve practically whines, wanting to keep moving.

 

Bucky’s hips thrust forward, turned on by the pet name. He indulges Steve, going back to the pace they had set until an idea occurs to him.

 

“Steve?” he murmurs against Steve’s lips.

  
“Mmm?” Steve hums.

 

Bucky breaks their kiss and takes a step backward, missing Steve’s heat immediately, so he leaves his hands on Steve's hips, but he’s on a mission. Steve looks at him inquiringly, so Bucky flashes him a wicked smile.

 

“Can I tell you about my dreams?”

 

Steve nods desperately.

 

Bucky sinks to his knees, sliding his hands down Steve’s sides, then lifts them back up,  stroking his thighs.

 

“Well, for starters, I love getting on my knees for you,” He murmurs, warm breath puffing on Steve’s crotch. Smiling, he slips his fingers under the waistband of Steve’s sweats, dragging them down along with his boxers.

 

Steve’s erection springs free and suddenly, it’s Bucky who feels desperate. His mouth waters as he takes in Steve’s flushed length.

 

Yup. There’s no way he could have imagined something so perfect. _God bless America_.

 

A thrill runs through him, knowing that they’re really doing this for the first time. He doesn’t want to mess up. He wants to make this perfect for Steve.

 

His nervousness, however, is quickly overshadowed by his desire. Steve’s flushed tip has a small bead of precome and Bucky has to taste it.

 

He laps it up, moaning, “Fuck, I want you.”

 

Steve’s head thumps back against the fridge.

 

He uses his left hand to hold Steve against the fridge, and his right to grip Steve’s impressive length, stroking slowly. He sucks Steve into his mouth, taking his time. Partly because he wants to draw it out, enjoy every second of it. But also because he’s afraid that he doesn’t _actually_ have the spectacular ability to deep throat Steve without gagging that he’s always had in his dreams.

 

He sucks Steve progressively deeper, swirling his tongue around his tip, licking the slit, adding suction. He pays rapt attention to Steve’s reactions.

 

By the time he’s able to allow Steve’s cock to nudge the back of his throat, Steve goes silent, breathing hard. Bucky glances up to check on him and realizes that Steve’s hands are clenching, beginning to press grooves into the stainless steel fridge.

 

He’s trying not to thrust into his mouth, Bucky realizes.

 

Well now, that just won’t do. He swallows Steve down, proud of how it doesn’t make him gag. So he steps it up. He grips both of Steve’s hips bruisingly tight. He’s getting good at this. He hollows out his cheeks, moving faster now.

 

It works. Steve tangles his fingers into Bucky’s hair.

 

“Fuck yeah, just like that,” Bucky pulls back to pant. “Pull.”

 

Obediently, Steve tugs Bucky’s hair. Bucky blissfully closes his eyes. The slight sting feels better than he thought it would, getting him even more worked up, making it easier for him to deep throat Steve. It blows Bucky’s mind how Steve’s pleasure almost instantly becomes his own. Maybe it shouldn’t feel so incredible to have Steve’s cock filling his mouth, but it’s so incredibly arousing and feels so mind numbingly good. He can feel his own cock oozing precome as though he’s being jerked off too.

 

Steve gasps, “Buck!” before he finally thrusts into his mouth with more force than Bucky was expecting. He gags around Steve, reflexively pulling off as tears slide down his face.

 

“Oh my God! Bucky, I’m sorry!” Steve apologizes, relaxing his grip on Bucky’s hair. He pets his head worriedly.

 

Bucky wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks up at Steve. “Are you kidding?” he rasps.

 

“That was the sexiest thing ever,” Bucky growls, getting to his feet and kissing Steve deeply, messily, pinning him against the fridge again, stroking him sloppily.

 

“In my dreams. I always loved it. When you just. Held me by my hair. And fucked my throat raw,” Bucky whispers between kisses.

 

“Buck,” Steve whimpers, threading his fingers through Bucky’s hair again. So Bucky gets back onto his knees, looking up at Steve as he swallows him down again. This time, Steve doesn’t close his eyes, just keeps eye contact through the haze of his ecstasy. He’s close. Bucky raises an eyebrow at him as he swirls his tongue around his tip again. Steve gets the hint and grips Bucky’s hair tighter, holding him still as he thrusts into his mouth.

 

Bucky melts as Steve fucks his mouth. He grabs Steve’s ass, fingers stroking the soft skin, not tugging him closer, just exploring and yielding completely.

 

Faintly, Bucky’s satisfied with how well he’s able to suppress his gag reflex, until Steve starts to lose his self-control and begins thrusting harder and faster. Bucky’s eyes water when he gags again and Steve starts to ease him off. Bucky gives him a heated look, even as tears continue to slip down his cheeks, and uses his grip on Steve’s ass to push him into his mouth again.

 

“Fuck,” Steve groans, eyes rolling back into his head, holding Bucky in place as he thrusts erratically now. He shuts his eyes as he comes. Bucky sucks him through his orgasm, swallowing greedily and pulling back a few times to lick his flushed tip, eager to lap up Steve’s release. Steve’s taste immediately conjures up countless old fantasies that can now be perfected with this detail and inspires new ones, in which Bucky works hard to make Steve climax, reaping the rewards of his efforts as he tastes him on his tongue: a part of him that's only for Bucky.

 

He finally lets Steve fall from his lips, carefully tucking him back into his sweats, and stands up to kiss him lazily, hands gently holding Steve’s face. He can’t help pressing himself against him, slowly rutting against his hip. Steve whimpers against his lips as he tries to palm Bucky’s erection.

 

Bucky nips Steve’s bottom lip before pressing another kiss to lips he’ll never tire of.

 

“C’mon,” he murmurs, picking Steve up and throwing him onto his shoulder.

 

“Buck!” Steve exclaims. But he doesn’t sound upset, only surprised. Bucky smiles to himself as he rushes to Steve’s bedroom.

 

Steve's room is across the hall from the room Bucky is staying in, but it's more than double the size. It's southern facing and one of its walls is essentially all windows with a glass door leading to a balcony.

 

He flips on the light although the dawn is starting to light the sky (he doesn't want to miss a thing), and throws Steve onto his bed. With super soldier speed, he removes Steve’s clothes. Moving onto his clothes, he nearly rips the hoodie Steve lent him trying to unzip it. As he’s hurriedly tugging his own shirt off, he hears Steve curse. Tossing it aside, he looks at Steve, who’s rubbing his face.

 

He pauses. “Alright, doll?”

 

“Yes,” Steve says, still out of breath, looking at Bucky hungrily. “You’re just so fucking hot. I can’t believe this is happening.” He sits up and kneels on the edge of the bed as Bucky steps out of his pants.

 

Steve makes a noise between a moan and a whine when he sees Bucky wasn’t wearing underpants. He grabs Bucky’s waist, looking into his eyes as he slowly strokes his thick cock.

 

“I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” Steve whispers, with a heat in his eyes that Bucky realizes he’s never actually seen before today. In what he’s quickly realizing are fantasies (partly because they’re more faint than other memories), Steve was always more doe-eyed and looked pretty blissed out already.

 

In reality, Bucky can see an endless hunger and love that makes his throat tight. But thankfully he doesn’t have to say anything as Steve leans closer. He rubs a thumb over Bucky’s tip, making him shiver, smearing the precome there. He holds Bucky’s gaze as he lifts his thumb to his lips, tongue poking out to lap up the moisture. His soft blue eyes grow impossibly dark as he visibly savors Bucky’s taste.  
  
It's a lot for Bucky, to realize Steve is starved for him too and is savoring him as well. He closes his eyes with a soft exhale, “Oh hell.”

Steve resumes jerking Bucky off, kissing his way from the scar tissue on Bucky’s shoulder to his nipple, licking over the spot before giving him a light nip. Completely unprepared for how incredible that would feel, Bucky cries out, holding Steve there with his left hand. Steve indulges him, moaning against Bucky’s skin when Bucky trails his right hand down Steve’s back, down to squeeze his butt as he thrusts into Steve’s tight fist.

 

Licking, biting, and sucking, Steve pays the same meticulous attention to his other nipple. Once Bucky’s breathless and nearly trembling with pleasure, he pulls off and holds Bucky close, kissing him slowly.

 

Bucky can tell he’s memorizing the shape and feel of his lips. It warms his heart to realize Steve really meant it when he said he’s been waiting for this to happen for “so long.”

 

_As long as I’ve been waiting too_ , he marvels.

 

“Can I tell you about _my_ dreams?” Steve whispers near Bucky’s ear, making him shiver again.

 

“Yes, please,” Bucky begs.

 

Lightning fast, Steve grabs Bucky and turns, pushing him back onto the bed and straddles him.

 

Steve smiles at Bucky’s shocked expression, “I want to taste you.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, “You just did?”

Steve smirks at him, raising an eyebrow as well, waiting for Bucky to understand.

 

Bucky’s jaw drops open as he sucks in a breath. “Oh.” He spreads his legs further apart without even thinking of it.

 

“That’s right,” Steve murmurs, stroking Bucky’s thighs. Fixing his heated gaze on Bucky again, he explains: “I always come so hard when I think of eating you out.”  
  
Bucky whimpers, nodding thoughtlessly.

 

“I want to make you come just by using my tongue.”

 

Steve continues as Bucky closes his eyes in a silent prayer. “Then, once you’re nice and relaxed for me, I want to fuck you and make you come again with me deep inside you, filling you up. How’s that sound, Buck?”

  
“Yeah, yes, yes.” Bucky responds, looking up at the ceiling like he can’t quite believe it. “Hell yes,” he breathes.

 

He wonders if it will even be possible to come like that.

 

“On your hands and knees, Buck,” Steve murmurs as he moves to grab a bottle of lube from his nightstand drawer.

 

When he turns back, Bucky’s ready for him: kneeling, braced on his hands, looking at Steve over his shoulder. He looks perfect. Steve crawls closer, sliding his hands over Bucky’s firm ass.

 

“You have lube?” Bucky asks with feigned innocence.

 

“Damn right. I missed you. I think about you all the time,” Steve replies shamelessly.

 

Bucky faces forward to hide his smile.

 

“You’re fucking amazing,” Steve breathes, spreading Bucky’s butt cheeks apart, appreciating how Bucky seems to hold his breath with anticipation. Slowly, he leans forward.

 

The instant his tongue touches the sensitive skin, Bucky moans so unabashedly that Steve groans back, licking Bucky more fiercely. Bucky pushes back against Steve’s face. The angle helps Steve press his tongue hard enough against the tight muscles to push inside.

  
“Oh fuck, Steve,” Bucky whimpers. “Yes, please.”

 

_Oh,_ he’s definitely going to be able to come from this.

 

Steve keeps licking Bucky, occasionally sucking on his rim. As the minutes go by and Bucky relaxes, he’s able to push further inside and he does, licking and sucking like he can’t get enough. He pulls back to give Bucky some slow, deliberate strokes with his tongue. But he can’t slow down for too long.

 

Bucky’s shivering from the overwhelming pleasure. He keeps rocking back, grinding his ass against Steve’s face. Steve’s eating him out like a starving man, it’s almost disorienting to be the focus of that rapt attention.

 

Suddenly, it feels as though Steve’s actually stuck his entire tongue up Bucky’s ass. Bucky’s arms give out as Steve holds his face there, wiggling his tongue around, loosening Bucky’s smooth walls. Steve sucks Bucky’s sensitive rim hard, making him choke on a sob.  
  
“Steve, oh God!” Bucky gasps, falling to his elbows and gripping the sheets. “I’m gonna--fuck. Fucking come.”

 

Steve squeezes Bucky’s ass cheeks with both hands, spreading him open at the same time as he rapidly darts his tongue in and out of Bucky as deep as he can.

 

“Oh fuck!” Bucky groans as he comes, cock twitching as he shoots onto the sheets. Steve doesn’t let up, fucking his tongue into Bucky like it’s his only mission in life.

 

Bucky rides out the last waves of pleasure,  thinking only of the wonderful wet heat of Steve's mouth.

 

At last, moving his hips forward, he signals to Steve that he can stop.

  
“Oh God, sure you haven’t done that before?” Bucky asks as he tries to catch his breath.

 

Steve eases off, grabbing the bottle of lube while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

He smirks, “I watch porn. . . . and I might’ve done some research.”

 

Steve squeezes some lube onto his fingers and throws the bottle back on the sheets. He quickly slicks himself up, stroking himself longer than he needs to, just to provide his dripping cock some relief. He teases Bucky’s asshole with a fingertip before slipping two fingers into him, gently but purposefully working him open.

 

Ass still up in the air, Bucky mumbles against a pillow through his post-orgasm haze. “Steve. Steve, fuck me, I’m ready.”

 

Steve sticks a third finger into him, wanting to make sure he’ll be okay. Bucky feels fucking great. So he presses his erection to Bucky’s ass.

 

“Buck?”

Bucky looks over his shoulder. “Yeah?”  Strands of his hair are plastered to his face with sweat and his lips are bright red. But Steve’s favorite thing is his completely blissed out expression. He did that to him.

 

“I love you,” Steve tells him as he pushes into him.  
  
Bucky would like to keep looking at Steve, but it just feels too damn good, being filled up, so he gets back onto his elbows, resting his forehead on his forearms. Steve feels so impossibly big, it should probably hurt. But it doesn’t, and he’s loving every second of it, not even minding that Steve’s dragging it out so much when he could’ve just slammed into him. He can feel himself getting hard again already. This is one instance where he can’t help but be grateful for his version of the serum.

 

“I love you too, punk,” Bucky smiles to himself.

 

Finally, Steve is fully buried inside him. He rests his forehead on Bucky’s shoulder murmuring, “Yeah, I never could've imagined how tight you'd be.” His voice sounds strained.

 

Bucky wiggles his butt, about to reply--

 

“No, no wait!” Steve pleads, gripping Bucky’s hips tightly with both hands. “God, sorry. You feel too good.”

 

Bucky laughs, causing Steve to grip him tighter with a groan. And _ooh_ , he might like that a little too much, Bucky thinks, wondering if maybe Steve's grip will leave bruises behind. Bucky finds that he'd like that very much.

 

Steve pulls out a few inches and slides back in.  The next time he pulls out a bit further and further each time, until he pulls almost all the way out, leaving only the tip of his cock buried in Bucky. Then, he slams back into him, making both of them groan with pleasure.

 

Still thrusting, Steve bends down closer to Bucky and wraps an arm tightly around him like being inside him isn't enough, like he wants to meld together with him. His next thrust hits Bucky’s prostate.

 

“Oh fuck!” Bucky wails, “There! There! Oh God please.”

 

Steve angles his hips to hit the spot again and again.

 

“Fuck! Steve!”

 

Hearing Bucky moan his name, his voice pitched obscenely with his ecstasy, is the sexiest thing he's ever heard in his life. It pushes him dangerously close to the edge.

 

“Bucky!” Steve grits his teeth, trying to hold out until Bucky comes.

 

“You gonna come for me, Buck?” Steve pants, reaching down to grab Bucky’s cock.  He's dripping with precome. “Feel so fucking good,” Steve groans. “Gonna fill that tight ass up. Want me to fill you up, Buck?”

 

Bucky just nods as his hands start to tremble.

 

Steve strokes him smoothly, spreading the slick over his shaft. With a twist of his wrist around his tip, Bucky comes.

 

“Yes, yes! Fuck, yes,” Bucky sobs, shaking with his orgasm.

 

Bucky’s asshole clenches around Steve's dick, finally pushing him over the precipice. He comes hard, thrusting as he empties himself in Bucky’s snug heat.

 

After a handful of thrusts, come starts spilling out around his pulsating cock. Although Steve had said he was going to fill Bucky’s ass up, he didn't really think it would happen.

 

_Fucking hell_. The sight makes him feel like he's coming _again_. He jerks Bucky through his orgasm, only letting go when he starts to soften.

 

At last, he slips his spent cock from Bucky’s ass.

 

Steve sits back on his feet as Bucky drops down onto the bed. Bucky groans, realizing he just got his own come all over himself. He rolls over to a dry spot and looks at Steve.

 

He doesn’t expect the hungry look Steve gets when he sees Bucky’s abs and chest glistening with come, but boy does he love it. Steve surges forward, kissing Bucky passionately, saying more with that kiss than they have for the past hour. Steve bites Bucky’s lip, licking the spot afterward.

 

Bucky can't help smiling against Steve's lips, thinking about Steve's playfulness and how much he loves it. Steve starts kissing his way down to Bucky’s neck. He moves to his chest, where he finds the first drop of climax smeared to Bucky’s chest. He licks up his release, looking into Bucky’s eyes as he does so.

 

_Oh fuck_ , Bucky’s cock twitches and he feels like he could come again from that look alone. He mindlessly grabs the sheets with both hands.

 

As Steve licks the come off Bucky’s chest, he makes his way over to Bucky’s left nipple, tracing it with the tip of his tongue. Bucky pulls the sheets harder, panting at the sight of Steve’s mouth: lips flushed red, shimmering with moisture, and his tongue, striped with come, tip teasing his skin. It’s easily the sexiest thing Bucky’s ever seen.

 

Steve plays with Bucky’s nipples, sucking on one while lightly tracing the other with a finger. But, he moves on soon. Too soon, in Bucky’s opinion. But he’s not complaining either. Everything Steve is doing feels great.

 

Bucky undulates uncontrollably as Steve’s tongue brushes over his abs, ravenously cleaning his skin.

 

“Fuck, baby, you taste amazing,” Steve gasps as he makes his way down to Bucky’s hip.

 

Bucky merely whimpers in response, pulling the sheets with alarming force. His cock is at full mast, _again_. He can feel it twitch every time Steve’s tongue wanders teasingly close. It's a beautiful kind of torture.

 

Steve lowers his own hips to the bed for stability and bites down near Bucky’s hip, sucking hard. He happily holds Bucky still when he jerks at the sensation.

 

But Buck doesn't stop trying to squirm: he's painfully swollen now. He needs more _soon._

 

Steve is overloading his senses, alternating between sucking his skin and soothing the area with his tongue until he's satisfied with the hickey. Then, he moves onto Bucky’s other hip, sucking ardently.

 

“Jesus!” Buck cries out, finally tearing up the sheets with his grip.

 

Neither of them notices the fabric ripping as Steve drags his finger down Bucky’s abs, enjoying the feel of soft skin over sculpted muscles. His finger lands in the last bit of release, which is pooled near Bucky’s dick.

 

He lifts it up, about to stick it in his mouth when Bucky nearly sobs with desperation. Steve looks up at him, basking in Bucky’s wrecked expression and makes a show of licking his finger and swallowing. Bucky glances up at the ceiling briefly before closing his eyes as though silently trying to beg for mercy, or for more, Steve can’t be sure. So, he leans down, lips hovering over Bucky’s dripping cock. It’s flushed almost purple and looks like a single caress could set him off.

 

“Buck, sure you’re okay?” Steve asks worriedly.

 

“Huh?” Bucky opens his eyes.

 

“Sorry, I’m just--fuck, I can’t get enough of you,” Steve pants.

 

“Oh my God, don’t stop! Please!” Bucky shifts his hips so his cock bobs enticingly in front of Steve.

 

Steve smiles and nods in response. He moves between Bucky’s legs, enveloping Bucky’s cock with his eager mouth. Bucky jolts at the contact, bucking his hips to thrust into Steve’s mouth.

 

Steve grinds his own hips against the mattress and swirls his tongue around Bucky, savoring his dark taste. He never would’ve guessed he’d like the taste of come.

 

It’s probably because it’s _Bucky’s_. It’s proof of the intense ecstasy Steve is torturing him with. Evidence that he’s doing a good job despite this being the first time he’s ever done anything sexual with anyone.

 

Bucky twitches in his mouth, the noises he’s making are no longer moans or whimpers, but rather a combination of the two. They encourage Steve, making it easy to relax and deep throat Bucky. He wants to make Bucky come again, and honestly, he’d love to experience Bucky’s orgasm like this: filling his mouth, his cock pulsating against his tongue with each pump of release.

 

But, he already misses the sensation of being inside Bucky. It was unlike anything he could’ve imagined, being connected so intimately to him.

 

So, Steve lets Bucky slip from his mouth to crawl back up the bed to kiss him. Bucky doesn't hesitate to kiss him back, licking into his mouth immediately. Steve kisses him deeply as he grips his erection and presses it to Bucky’s entrance, which is still wet with lube and come.

 

Bucky rakes blunt fingernails down Steve’s back in response, shakily whispering, “Oh fuck yes.”

 

Steve pushes part of the way in, just enough to be sure he won’t slip out. Then, in one fluid movement, he nudges Bucky’s legs apart, sliding his arms around his back, and rises to a sitting position with Bucky straddling his lap, finally slamming into him.

 

“Steve!” Bucky cries out, immediately arching his body back, ensuring that Steve’s cock will hit his prostate with every thrust. Steve shifts his legs, sitting back slightly and planting his feet firmly on the bed to gain the proper leverage to hold Bucky’s hips and pound into him with super soldier speed. Bucky keeps whimpering, “Steve! Steve! Steve!” like a prayer.

 

They move as one, nearly drunk with pleasure from their previous orgasms, desperately chasing their climax once again. Bucky is beyond blissed out, but he can’t help keeping his eyes open to drink in Steve’s expression. Of love, arousal, and admiration. It should be difficult to gaze into such intense emotion from the man he’s been in love with most of his life, but it isn’t.

 

Seeing the love plain on Steve’s face heals a part of Bucky that he didn’t think could ever heal. In that moment, he knows that Steve doesn’t blame him for anything he’s done because of Hydra, or even before that, during the war, he only wants him. He _knows_ that. And he feels raw as well, as though maybe Steve can see through him right now. He hopes so. He needs to make sure.

 

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” he pants as he moves to meet each of Steve’s thrusts. “You’re all I’ll ever want,” he vows.

 

Something brighter than a smile spreads over Steve’s face, something more visceral that makes their connection even more intense.

 

“Me too,” Steve breathes. His jaw starts going slack with his impending orgasm, but he’s able to gasp out, “You’re everything.”

 

Bucky nods, leaning closer to kiss Steve: all open mouths and heavy panting. He lifts his metal hand to grip Steve’s hair as Steve holds his chin, messily mirroring Bucky’s lips and tongue. Bucky uses the hand he still has planted on the mattress to try to somehow push himself closer to Steve.

 

Steve also attempts to get closer to Bucky, but they’re already pressed flush together, sliding easily together. Their combined strength traps Bucky’s cock between them, sweat and precome making the slide deliciously smooth. It’s so much. Pleasure seems to be engulfing Bucky’s entire being.

 

Steve breaks their kiss to lick Bucky’s neck as his thrusts become more erratic. He sucks at his skin until Buck’s cock starts pulsating and his ass clenches again and again, milking Steve for all he's worth.

 

“God, baby you feel so fucking good,” Steve murmurs against Bucky’s chest as his vision goes white. He feels like he shatters apart, fading into nothing, or maybe into everything, as his orgasm hits him harder than ever.

 

He’s still weakly thrusting into Bucky when he feels more aware again. The fog has mostly ebbed from his mind, but is still making his body feel smooth, and heavy, like syrup. Bucky keeps clenching around him as his breath hitches and he rides out the final waves of pleasure. So, Steve makes an effort to keep moving, not wanting to cut Bucky’s orgasm short by a second. He strokes his back and whispers to him, “You’re so fucking amazing. So beautiful.”

 

He presses a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder as they both start to wind down, “Mine.”

 

He can feel Bucky smile against his own shoulder. “You have no idea,” Bucky begins. Steve presses their cheeks together, so he feels Bucky’s next words in more ways than one. “How many times I’ve dreamed of pulling you into my lap and fucking you like that.”

 

Nuzzling against Steve’s cheek, Bucky laughs, “But now that I know how mind-blowingly awesome that is, I realllly need to fuck you like that, so you know how great it feels.”  
  
“Oh believe me,” Steve assures him, “that was plenty mind-blowing for me too.”

 

Bucky hums.

 

“Felt like I blacked out there for a second,” Steve muses aloud. “All I knew was you and how good you feel.”

 

Steve leans back to look at Bucky, “But, we can roleplay and act out all of your dreams, Buck. We have forever now, right?”

 

“Yes, forever,” Bucky agrees.

 

\--

 

“Forever,” Bucky repeats, in too small of a voice for Steve’s liking. He knows that Bucky has no doubt of how he feels about him, but looking down at the dark gray wedding band on his metal finger (which is currently serving as an engagement ring), must put things into perspective.

 

Or, Steve supposes, it just surprised him. Maybe Bucky didn’t expect it so soon, Steve can admit to himself. It’s only been a few weeks since Bucky came back.

 

But why wait when they both know they only want each other? Always have. Always will.

 

“Yes,” Steve tilts Bucky’s face up to press a kiss to Bucky’s lips.

 

He pulls back to smile at him, “Let’s put it this way: if you try to escape from me in a helicopter, I will run up to a rooftop, and pull the helicopter right out of the sky.”

 

Bucky can’t help barking out a laugh then. He snuggles closer to Steve, leaning against his shoulder as his laughter subsides.

 

“You know that’s ridiculous, right?” he asks, peering up at Steve.

 

Steve’s smile twists into a smirk as another idea occurs to him.

 

“Yeah, right. You’ll be too distracted by my ‘glorious pecs’ to even try to escape anymore. You’ll just sit there, sexually frustrated. Trying not to faint. But not to worry baby, I’ll catch you if you do,” Steve promises, tugging Bucky closer for a hug.

 

Bucky hugs him back, letting Steve feel the vibrations of his laughter against his chest. He loves when Steve acknowledges his sexiness, even if he can hear the quotes Steve uses.

 

Even more, he loves sitting in Steve’s lap, just enjoying being together.

 

After a while, Bucky asks, “Is it weird that I pictured you running out onto the rooftop shirtless?” A wicked smile is evident in his tone.

 

Steve laughs, nearly bumping his head on the wall behind the couch.

 

“Yes. That doesn’t make sense at all. I don’t run around like that.”

 

“Hmmph,” Bucky huffs, obviously unhappy with that answer. _That’s not how I remember it. . . Or how I’d like to, anyway._  
  
Steve kisses his forehead, “Okay, just for you, I will run out onto a rooftop and rip my shirt off before trying to pull your helicopter out of the sky.”

 

Bucky smiles with satisfaction, “That’s more like it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


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